


When We Were Young

by llenorion



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Elections, Grantaire Has Feelings, M/M, One Shot, Post-Break Up, Reunited and It Feels So Good, enjolras is president
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 07:31:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14807003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llenorion/pseuds/llenorion
Summary: The retort fresh on his lips soured as he took in the anxious looks Enjolras was shooting the alleyway as the voices grew ever closer.Fuck, he was going to regret this.“Get in.”On Election Night, Grantaire is forced to face the man he walked away from ten years ago and swore never to see again. This time though, he's not sure he can walk away again. Or that he even wants to.





	When We Were Young

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo I'm supposed to be working on Something I Need but I was having trouble getting back into writing and decided to write a simple short one shot to get back in the grove. Except then the story kept growing and now we're at 10,000 words lol. I hope you enjoy this story. It says angst in the tags, but it's a happy ending, I SWEAR!

The sudden roar of excited chatter jerked Grantaire out of his focus. His fingers tightened their hold on the camera clutched in blessedly steady hands, poised to capture the carefully chosen shot of the new Vice President and his family enjoying their victory party.

Around him the party was bright and lively, eager guests toasting to the potential of a new world. Swallowing thickly, Grantaire tried to tune out the words and the memories they roused. He hadn’t wanted to be here; hadn’t wanted anything to do with this event, but Jehan had been so earnest in their request to take this job and he’d never been able to turn down the blonde.

His chest tightened as he took in the crowd, heard the excited murmurings of what this would mean for the future of France. These people were so hopeful in the face of what they saw as a chance for true change. The cynic in him didn’t believe anything would truly change, but the part of him that occasionally still believed in something prayed they were right.

Memories stirred in his mind of late nights and rousing speeches in a dingy café. Chaotic protests and the blood and sweat of riots. The politics and the anger. The hopelessness. It had been many years since this had been his life. Lost at the bottom of a bottle and only rising to follow his fearless Apollo to the next battle.

He never thought he’d miss it.

Grantaire’s fingers clenched tighter around the camera, teeth biting sharply into his lip in an attempt to ground himself. That young shadow of a man was his past. _Apollo_ was his past. Screwed up and damaged he had desperately needed to walk away and he had. It may have taken years of distance and therapy but Grantaire was finally in a good place.

More memories stirred at the thought of Enjolras. Memories of bitter fights twisted up with gentle caresses. Old words a mantra in his mind poking at scarred wounds that he would never be good enough, that he was pathetic. The bleakness overtook him as he retreated out the back door to the quiet of the gardens.

Breathing deeply and running through some mental exercise his therapist had taught him, he felt the tension in his chest ease. The looming bitterness of his past pushed away for just a little longer. His mind clearer he counted out his successes. Reminded himself how far he had come.

With a thriving gallery and unshakable sobriety, Grantaire was the best version of himself and he’d done it alone. He was worth something and he would never let anyone make him feel less than again. No matter how much he, despite all efforts, still loved them.

As he reclaimed steady breaths he distracted himself with a few absent shots of the gardens in the gleaming moonlight. The property was absurdly opulent but there was quite a lot of beauty to be found.

He smiled as a fonder memory of his Apollo stirred, imagining his reaction to Grantaire’s sentiments. It hadn’t all been bad. A tinge of sadness dimmed his smile as he regrouped himself. There was a job to do and a party to photograph.

Leaving the quiet comfort of the gardens he pressed back through the throngs of people, eyes searching quickly for the new Vice President. With a noise of triumph at spotting the tall, balding man’s back as he spoke to someone blocked from view Grantaire pushed his way up a flight of stairs to a balcony overhead to get his shot.

Camera in hand, he lined up the shot, waiting patiently for the man to move so he could get a shot of him and the other individual he was speaking to. His fingers hovered over the button, waiting for that split second that would be the difference between a front page photograph and a blurry mess that would be better used as kindling.

The man below shifted, revealing a tall, slight figure many years younger. Grantaire’s finger stuttered over the shutter, absently capturing the moment, as his heart skipped several beats. Through the lens he could make out the bright shade of blonde curls as they gleamed brilliantly in the light and fierce blue eyes lighting with passion as he spoke with the balding man.

He felt as if his limbs had lost all mobility as he stood helplessly and watched as the Vice President motioned for an assistant who hurried over quickly with a microphone. All around him the guests went silent as the two men took their place in the center of the room.

“Good evening.” The gruff voice of the older man was deep and grating over the speakers, “I know tonight you had only been promised my attendance, but it would seem this young man here has chosen to leave his own victory party early to pay respects to those here that made tonight possible.”

The words seemed pleasant enough, but the faint tightness to the older man’s words indicated he was not pleased to be upstaged at his own party.

“He has asked to share a few words with you this evening before we continue on with the celebration. May I present ladies and gentlemen, your new President. President Enjolras.”

With a sweeping gesture to the younger man at his left, he dropped the microphone into a patiently extended palm and retreated into the dense crowd who was cheering and clapping furiously.

Grantaire wanted to roll his eyes at the fervor of the crowd and the falsely bashful way Enjolras bowed his head in deference, but his whole body was singularly focused on the man he swore he would never see again. A buried part of him cried out in desperation to touch, to run down the stairs and take the other man in his arms and never let go.

The need intensified as the timber of the blonde’s voice sounded in his ears for the first time since their last fight, many years ago. The words were familiar, speeches of change and possibility. How they would right the wrongs of the past and build a world where anything was possible and no one would know hardship or hunger.

They were words Grantaire knew like the back of his hand. He had spent his youth following these words despite not believing in any of them. Yet he had believed then as he did now that if anyone could make it happen it would be the man below. If only he had known sooner the toll it would take to be but flawed mortal amidst god’s presence; to love so deeply and be cast aside for “the cause”.

Around him the crowd was enthralled, relishing in the words falling from perfect lips and feeding on the fervor of the passion gleaming in blue eyes. Enjolras was their dream come true and they loved him. Grantaire could empathize with the starstruck expressions fixed on their new leader as he too had once worn that same look.

He needed to get out of there. Jehan would understand if he couldn’t complete the job. Besides, he was sure he had a few serviceable photographs for their magazine. Darting quickly around the many engrossed guests, Grantaire made his way to the attendant at the make shift coat check to retrieve his things. The flashes of memories haunting his every step were shards to his heart as it clenched painfully at the remembrance that that man was no longer his life, no longer his home.

Many years had passed since he’d walked away. Grantaire had rebuilt himself and he told himself everyday he had moved on from this – from _him_. He knew now he’d been lying to himself. If he’d truly moved on, why could he not stand in front of the other man and offer his congratulations without aching loss?

Grantaire stubbornly refused to think of the string of failed relationships he’d left in his wake the past decade. Each one he’d come up with some reason to let it go – whether work, an annoying habit, or telling himself he wasn’t looking for anything serious. He’d told himself he needed to focus on himself more than give himself again wholly to another person.

In the process, Grantaire thought he’d regained every piece of himself, but right now it felt as if the piece of him that still loved that bastard was clenched in the blonde’s unyielding grasp and wasn’t shifting loose. The very sight of the blonde had sent his blood aflame and made him feel like he was still that desperate young man who had followed Enjolras to hell and back since middle school.

Swallowing thickly, he took his coat and bags from the attendant. With deft, practiced hands Grantaire packed his equipment as he tuned out the final applause of the party before the guests resumed their prior conversations. A quick glance of his watch told him it was early yet, not even 9:00. Perhaps he would have time to drop by the gallery and finish some of the prep work for their upcoming show.

Nodding to himself, he hoisted the camera bag over his shoulder and walked swiftly to his parked car at the end of the drive which was blessedly unblocked by the other guests’ cars. Focused as he was on making a quick exit and carefully arranging the camera equipment in his trunk he missed the quiet footsteps following quickly behind him.

As such, when a tentative hand reached out to grasp his shoulder from where he was hunched over the back of his car, he jolted, head banging on the inside of the trunk door.

“Motherfucker.” He swore violently, pain searing through his skull.

“Shit, are you okay, R.” A voice sounded to his left. A very …. _familiar_ voice.

Blinking back dotted vision, he turned to face the direction of the voice. Sure enough, in all his righteous glory was Enjolras. Enjolras, whose expression was uncommonly apologetic.

His face had sharpened with age, but he still stood a figure carved from marble. Eternally beautiful. His golden curls had been cut short on the back and sides, leaving only a few loose to fall into those gleaming blue eyes he’d seen in every desperate dream for the last ten years.

The suit he wore looked expensive and expertly tailored. A deep red jacket over a crisp white shirt and black tie. Black slacks hugging every curve and sinewy muscle. It was all Grantaire could do to keep his jaw clenched shut and eyes from roaming too much.

Over the years, Grantaire had come to pride himself on his self-control and firm resolve. Yet thirty seconds in the same breadth of space as the other man and he felt it snapping like kindling. He wanted to touch so badly, but he also wanted to run or rage angrily. So many confusing and conflicting emotions were flooding his senses and he couldn’t manage to force his mouth to form words, only stare dumbly at the man in front of him who visibly grew more agitated at the extended silence.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Enjolras snapped in that way he did when he was anxious about something.

It was so petulant, Grantaire couldn’t help but let out a bark of laughter. Enjolras blinked in surprise at the noise, clearly not expecting the reaction.

“What do you want me to say? Sorry, _your grace_ ,” his throbbing head tilted in a mocking bow, “but you’re the one who came after me and I don’t really have anything to say to you.” He sniped in reflex, knowing it would rattle the other man and not wanting to be the only one in this scenario on the defensive.

Chiseled features twisted in frustration, cheeks flushing brightly. Perfect lips parted to respond but the words seem to die on his passionate tongue. Several moments passed in silence as frustration and a need to leave won out over his dueling emotions.

Sighing heavily, Grantaire dropped his coat in the trunk before closing it with a heavy thud. He had barely made it to the driver side door, handle in grasp, before Enjolras was in his space again.

Fuck, he smelled so good.

The length of him was pressed against his side, one hand clenching the fabric at his lower back and the other covering the hand grasping firmly on the car door handle. A sharp nose buried itself in Grantaire’s curls as short breaths ghosted over tender ears.

His body still knew this man’s touch and unwillingly turned into its embrace, his mind stuttering and reeling violently. Grantaire’s chest grew tight as his breathing became shallow and unsteady.

For fucks sake, he mused angrily, a decade spent trying to move on and stand on his own undone by one touch.

“Please,” Enjolras murmured, “I just want to talk to you.” The hand at his back tucked under the fabric, running gentle caresses over the base of his spine.

“Don’t.” Grantaire choked out, eyes brimming with angry tears. He twisted in the other man’s grasp, pushing him back out of his space so he could breathe.

“You don’t get to do that anymore, Enjolras.”

The other man looked stricken and ashamed. As well he should, Grantaire thought bitterly to himself as he walked through some quick mental exercises to clear his focus.

“I’m sorry.” Enjolras didn’t often apologize, preferring to defend his actions without regret or find some other way to atone when he felt he had gone a step too far, but when he did so it was always heart achingly sincere. He’d only said the words to Grantaire a handful of times over the decades they’d known each other.

In another life it would have meant something to Grantaire, but he was weak and easily swayed back then. Now, he knew all too well the cycle of Enjolras and no matter how much his soul screamed out for the other man, he refused to come last every time.

“Grantaire, I…” the other man paused, expression clearing as he retreated into the comfort of his isolating control. “I would very much like to have a moment of your time to discuss matters that I believe are past overdue for review and of great concern to us both. Understanding your disdain for politics and the spotlight I ordered my security to drop back as soon as I noticed your attendance at the event. They won’t be privy to these potential discussions.”

The words were crisp and direct, free of any fervor or emotion. It was almost as if he was trying to make an appointment to discuss drywall there was so little behind the request.

“Why am I not surprised?” Grantaire growled, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back against his car.

Blue eyes blinked dangerously slow, “I beg your pardon?”

“Not a word from you for ten years, and on the biggest night of your life you decide now is the time to dig up old history while simultaneously flaunting the success our separation provided you.”

The tears had dried from his eyes, his aching heart comforted by the righteous indignation surging through his body.

“I’m not a young, addle minded sycophant anymore Enjolras. I won’t ask you how high just because you tell me to jump.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, “You’re being dramatic, R.”

“Am I?” Grantaire snapped dangerously, pushing off the car and into Enjolras’ space. The other man stepped back, uncomfortably, at the sudden intrusion.

 

“You need to listen to me. I am in a good place now, Enj. It may have taken some time, but I can finally stand on my own without blindly following a man who will never love me above his cause or who will not once put me first.”

Enjolras’ eyes flashed, “That’s not true and you know it, R. I loved you more than anything.” His voice cracked over the angry, desperate words but he couldn’t trust them.

“You _left_ me.”

Blue eyes were bright in the darkness, full of anger and loss that Grantaire had seen mirrored in his own eyes for months before he’d finally walked away.

He sighed, frustration softened by affection and despair. “I’m sure you believe that’s true, Enjolras, but – “

His words were broken off as he heard loud voices coming down the street. The two men looked at each other in confusion before shifting their focus to the crowd ambling down the street to the driveway and carrying a French flag while singing songs.

Enjolras swore darkly, darting back into the seclusion of the driveway.

“What, you don’t want to meet your subjects?” Grantaire mocked.

The blonde shot him a dark look, “Not when I’m trying to get my ex-fiancé to talk to me, no.”

His heart stuttered at the word, a phantom weight heavy on his left hand. The retort fresh on his lips soured as he took in the anxious looks Enjolras was shooting the alleyway as the voices grew ever closer.

Fuck, he was going to regret this.

“Get in.” Grantaire sighed, fishing the car keys out of his pocket.

Enjolras stared at him in shock, eyes darting between him and the car and back at the large house.

“I have appearances to make. The security alone…”

He threw his hands up, unsure why he was even offering in the first place.

“Look, Enj. This is a one time deal. You want to talk to me? Get in the car and we will talk. Otherwise I will leave you to your subjects and your Cause.”

Enjolras’ brow raised in bitter amusement. “You are quite literally making me choose between you and my duty, aren’t you?

Grantaire cocked his head in surprise, not intending to make that ultimatum. “Huh… I guess I am.” He shrugged. “So what’s it going to be?”

He stared challengingly at the other man, unsure if he wanted Enjolras to finally choose him, just once, or if he wanted the blonde to make the decision he always had and return to the party. At least that way he would know how to feel.

Wordlessly, the blonde walked to the other side of the car and got in, sinking smoothly into the passenger seat. Alright then… I guess this is happening. Grantaire mused, getting in on his side and starting the engine.

The car ride was quiet, the tension in the air far more palpable in the enclosed space. At his side, Enjolras seemed to mulling over in his mind for what he surely thought would be the right words to win his argument. Seems he’d forgotten how much Grantaire loved to tear them down.

He tried not to think of the last time they were in a car together, Enjolras bloody from a bar fight and angry at Grantaire for being too drunk to be useful in protecting whichever poor girls it had been that night that he’d deemed worthy of assistance.

A lot of horrible things had been said that night that neither of them had ever taken back.

Grantaire had moved out the next day.

He drove now on autopilot through the winding streets, arriving all too quickly at his flat near the river. Too late he considered this was probably not the best move, as the whole of the city seemed to be out either celebrating or rioting. He could pass through the crowds undetected but the blonde to his left was a bit conspicuous.

He reached behind his seat where one of his paint spattered hoodies was tucked away between the seats.

“Here. Cover your face.” He threw the hoodie at the blonde, relishing in the indignant look the other man shot him.

Smirking, Grantaire got out of the car and retrieved his things from the trunk.

The hoodie fit tight over the taller man’s suit, hood barely covering his features. The stark contrast was an odd sight and if the goal was to keep him inconspicuous, Grantaire had failed. Still, seeing him in his one of his hoodies after all these years did something to his insides as they flipped and squirmed at the familiar sight.

Darting quickly out of the busy street and up the flight of stairs, Grantaire considered the man behind him. If he let himself, he could almost pretend that he was twenty-seven again and they were just heading home after a late night at the café with his friends.

Perhaps, he mused sadly, if they’d been different people that could have been their life these past ten years.

The tense silence of the drive grew more prominent as the heavy door closed shut behind them and they moved awkwardly around each other. Dropping his stuff by the door, he finally freed himself of the fitted blazer that he had been dying to get out of all night.

A quick glance over his shoulder saw Enjolras watching his every moment with careful, unapologetic consideration. A pool of heat filled his gut as he remembered what that look usually led to. How many times he’d been taken apart under sure fingers.

“You know,” he shot over his shoulder, “Keep looking at me like that and I’m going to start thinking you’re not here to talk and you’re just after me for some dirty victory sex.”

Enjolras blinked slowly, focus shifting to the shorter man’s face as his lips quirked in a surprised smirk.

“Who says I can’t be here for both?”

Grantaire raised a brow, refusing to acknowledge the way his traitorous body responded to the proposition.

“I thought I made myself clear, Enjolras. I’m not some quick, easy prey for you to use and leave when the next big project comes along.”

The amused light in those blue eyes grew cold with anger. If he hadn’t known the other man better, he would have thought he was about to get punched. Refusing to give ground, Grantaire dropped heavily onto the couch in the middle of the room, challenging gaze never leaving the other man.

“You left me, R.” He gritted out. “So let’s stop pretending I sent you away. Even tonight you asked me to choose, and I chose you.” He crossed the room, dropping hard on his knees in front of Grantaire, glaring darkly.

“Does that not count for anything?” He snapped bitterly, hands clenching into the fabric on either side of Grantaire’s knees.

He was mindful that Enjolras seemed to be taking care to be as close as possible without actually touching him. The other man was a lot of things, but he understood the word no and Grantaire hadn’t given him permission to touch him again since the house.

“As I said before, I’m sure you believe that, Enj, but...” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his crooked nose. “You don’t know what it’s like to love you. You don’t know what it’s like to always come last to the cause or to be made to feel unworthy in your eyes.”

Enjolras shook his head, frustrated, “What are you talking about? You were never unworthy, R. I gave you my heart. I gave you my life.”

“No,” Grantaire snapped, “You didn’t.”

Years of pain and anger that he thought he’d moved past hit him like a truck. The man in front of him may be the love of his life, but he had broken his heart.

“You shared my bed, you shared a home, Enjolras, but you could never truly share your heart. I mean for fucks sake,” he threw his hands up in the air, “just think how many years I spent at your side before you could even deign to look away from your calling to the people around you.”

Enjolras dropped his head in shame, “Grantaire, please. That’s not fair. I’m not that man anymore and you know that.”

Grantaire scoffed, “Do I?” He reached out two fingers to draw Enjolras’ despondent gaze to meet his.

“Ten. Years. Enjolras.” He ground out. “Ten fucking years without a single word. As soon as I was gone you went straight back to your causes and never gave me another thought. I wasn’t even allowed to be angry every time you lost yourself to changing the world, because you were so damn noble and righteous. You’re the fucking President now, Enj.”

He dropped his hand, falling back into the cushions. “Tell me, how am I allowed to be angry that I was put aside for something like that?”

Enjolras scoffed wetly, eyes suspiciously bright. “I never wanted you to leave, R. I knew you didn’t believe in what we were doing and I know sometimes I got too wrapped up in myself ---”

“Spare me.” Grantaire felt that old prick of need for a bottle of something strong to cloud the confusion of his mind. Not even one evening and years of progress were thrown to the wind by one man.

“Every night alone, every gallery show you missed, every unattended dinner with your family, every cruel word you said to me about my drinking or lack of ambition, all that and more with one singular factor in common. You had to change the world.”

The blonde looked like he’d been slapped, anguish and remorse clear on his face.

“I could never ask you to stop. I never wanted you to. There wasn’t a lot I believed in, Enj, but I knew you were destined for great things. It just got to a point where I was killing myself in your shadow and you didn’t even care.”

Silent tears streamed down perfect cheekbones, startling Grantaire’s tirade to a quick halt. Much like the rarity of a true apology from his Apollo, tears were even rarer. To his knowledge it was a sight he’d only seen three times in his life before. Once when his childhood dog died, then when Lamarque had passed away, and the last at Courfeyrac and Combeferre’s wedding.

In all the times they’d broken up and gotten back together he had never seem him cry for Grantaire. The sight of it did more to soothe his wounded soul than any platitudes or worse of regret Enjolras ever could have offered.

Tentative fingers reached out to cup his cheek, thumb brushing the tears away. The blonde turned into the caress, eyes clenched shut.

“I moved out because I could never ask you to stop,” his tone was low and gentle, “and I needed to get better. What we had… it wasn’t good for me.”

Enjolras made a wounded noise that broke his heart.

“Were you ever happy?” He murmured into Grantaire’s hands, eyes still clenched as though he couldn’t stand to see Grantaire answer the question. It was a surreal moment, realizing he had the President kneeling at his feet. In his youth he’d revered Enjolras, but now…. Now he saw the man. The beautiful, flawed man who just wanted to make things right.

“Everyday.” Even in their bitterest arguments or when he was having his bad days that nothing could cure, the very existence of Enjolras had always made even just a small part of him deliriously happy.

“Ask me.” The blonde’s eyes flew open with sudden inspiration, wetness still clinging to his lashes.

Grantaire frowned, head cocked in confusion.

“Ask me to choose.” Enjolras demanded, voice strong with new conviction.

Ten years ago if Grantaire had made this request he was sure he’d known what the answer would have been. Now… he wasn’t sure.

“Why now?” He ground out. “Why wait ten years till you win the biggest election of your life to track me down and tell me to ask you to choose? What makes you think I want to ask you?”

The man at his feet sighed heavily, rubbing the wetness from his face as he deliberated his response. Even after all this time, he still had to make a point to get the important words just right.

Enjolras jerked suddenly to his feet, pulling Grantaire’s hoodie over his head in a swift moment that should not have been as attractive as it was given the circumstances. The black tie and red suit jacket soon joined the tattered hoodie on the floor.

When nimble fingers began making short work of the buttons on his crisp white dress shirt, Grantaire finally jolted into action.

“What the hell are you doing?” He demanded, throwing a hand out to hold pale hands in place.

Blue eyes glared down at him in frustration. “For once in your life, Grantaire, I’m going to need you to not argue with me. Think you can manage that?”

Knocking his hand back, he continued his task of unbuttoning his shirt. Grantaire was about to protest, but the words died on his tongue as his jaw dropped in shock as a stretch of skin was exposed, revealing a new smattering of color wrapping up a familiar chest and around his shoulder where it disappeared onto his back.

“Where…” He swallowed thickly, brain muddled in a strange mix of disbelief and adoration.

Enjolras smiled sadly. “It was two years after you left. I’d been so angry and confused…. I spent those first few weeks too stubborn and hurt to call you. Part of me hoped you’d walk in one day after you’d cooled off and we could work through it, but you never did.”

Grantaire winced, not wanting to reveal how many times he’d gotten to the door of the Musain before forcing himself to turn around. It wouldn’t help.

“Anyway, I lost myself in the work as a distraction. Courf and Ferre were worried. They kept trying to draw me out of myself but it didn’t work. I knew the second I stopped focusing on the work I would realize just how empty the rest of my life had become.”

He laughed bitterly, “I hated you a little for that, R.”

The words weren’t unexpected but they hurt all the same.

The blonde dropped his gaze to the markings on his skin, a fondness passing over his features that stood at odds with the pained pinch of his lips.

“Anyway, Jehan got me to agree to go to this showing of their favorite new artist. Even in my most obsessed, it was impossible to say no to Jehan.” Grantaire snorted, understanding all too well. It was Jehan’s fault he was in this position in the first place. His friend had never been able to leave things well enough alone.

“It was one of your first showings, R. The whole series was a startlingly and heartbreakingly beautiful self-portrait of emotion. For the first time in two years, I felt connected to you again.” He made an aborted motion for Grantaire’s neck, jerking back just before he made contact.

Grantaire had to stop himself from grabbing his hand and putting it there himself. He’d had no idea Enjolras had ever followed up on him.

“When I saw you across the room, I thought it was my chance to put this all right. Then I saw you laugh. It was the most open and carefree laugh that I’d seen from you since we were children. I thought we’d been happy, but then I saw you laugh and I…. I hadn’t realized how sad you’d been. Maybe I hadn’t left you, but I apparently didn’t give you much reason to stay either.”

The tears were back, dripping slowly down flushed cheeks.

“This was my favorite of the show,” he gestured at the tattoo, “I think I stared at it for a solid twenty minutes before it even clicked what I was looking at.”

Grantaire couldn’t help the small smile that formed. “It was the first time we met. When you helped me from the river those asshole kids from my foster home had pushed me into. You’d wrapped me in your jacket and took me home to meet your mother. It was the first time in my life I’d felt loved and cared for.”

He trailed his fingers over the abstract blues and whites as they merged like two joined hands. The day he’d painted that Grantaire had been lonely and missing Enjolras desperately.

“I got it as a reminder that it had been real, what we felt for each other. Despite all the fights and the pain we had truly loved each other.” Enjolras smiled sadly. “I kept tabs on you after that. You were sober for the first time since we were fifteen and had a burgeoning career. I was so proud of you, but I couldn’t help but think I was what had been holding you back. I’d never wanted to know the answer, but I guess I do now.”

Wincing, Grantaire wished he could correct him, but truthfully he wasn’t sure he could. Leaving had been the push he’d needed to do what he needed to do for himself for once.

“I still don’t understand why you want me to ask you to choose, now. You’ve finally gotten everything you’ve ever wanted. The power to really change things. Why would you throw that away?”

Enjolras shook his head, exasperated.

“Haven’t you been listening? Without you all I had was the cause. I spent ten years loosing myself to it and keeping away from you because I thought it’s what you needed. Then I saw you tonight and I just –,” he swallowed thickly. “I just couldn’t keep doing it… You told me you left me because I always choose the world over you. My past is the past and I can’t fix it, but I am not the same person I was ten years ago, Grantaire, and neither are you.”

His heart thudded in his chest. It felt like they were hovering on the precipice of something monumental. They’d each laid their past bare, anger and pain that had been pushed away for years fresh in their hearts. Yet there was something else… Enjolras’ simple presence a soothing balm that seemed to heal the hurt in a way space and therapy had never managed. Grantaire had spent years avoiding all thoughts of the man before him, sure if he spent too much time thinking about him he would run straight into his arms and renew the cycle that he’d escaped in the first place.

Now that it had happened, Grantaire was forced to admit Enjolras might be right. He wasn’t the same broken man he’d been before, so who is to say Enjolras hadn’t grown as well?

“You’re not seriously telling me the world doesn’t matter without me in it, are you?”

It was ludicrous. Even Enjolras couldn’t have changed that much.

The blonde retrieved his red jacket from the floor, retrieving a small band of metal from the inside pocket. Holding it out between them, Grantaire recognized it as the engagement ring he had left on his nightstand the day he’d moved out.

“I’ve had the last ten years to wonder the same thing. I’ve stared at this thing every day wondering if my path was the reason I had lost you. Knowing now that it was, I can only say the world will always matter to me. The world needs to change and I believe I can be an instrument in doing that.”

“But?” Grantaire questioned.

“I’m really tired of not having you at my side, R.” Enjolras was visibly torn, the weight of what he was asking startling clear to him.

Grantaire would be lying if the offer didn’t tempt him just a little. To be the thing that turned Enjolras himself from saving the world.

“No.”

Enjolras flinched, pain and heartbreak flashing across his face before it smoothed into professional control.

“Understood. My apologies for taking up so much of your time, Grantaire.” Giving a sharp nod, he bent to retrieve his clothing from the floor.

Fuck, that’s not what he’d meant.

“Enjolras, stop.” The other man ignored him, swiftly buttoning his now wrinkled shirt.

“For fucks sake, Enj, Stop.” He snapped, using both hands to pry the pale digits away from their task.

Enjolras stared stonily at him, “I told you I still wanted you, and you told me no. You’ve wanted me to leave you alone all evening, so let me leave.”

Grantaire wanted to shake him. “You dumb son of a bitch. I meant no, I’m not going to force you to choose.”

“Why the hell not? You said yourself you wanted me to choose you first. Let me choose you!”

He wanted to cry in frustration. Enjolras was saying the words he’d been wanting to hear for years and now that he heard them he didn’t want them. Not like this. It wasn’t right for Enjolras not to be out there fighting for a cause.

“I also told you I could never ask you to do that. Don’t you get it? It’s a paradox. I can’t live being your afterthought, but I’m never going to ask you to walk away from what you believe in.”

Enjolras snapped, “Then what do you want, R? What do you want from me to make this work? I can’t even figure out if you want me to stay or go. If you still love me as much as I love you or if I’m just an obnoxious ex you can’t get rid of?”

In a split moment of a decision, not really thinking the consequences through, he snatched the ring out of Enjolras’ grasp and jammed it onto his finger. Shoving it into the blonde’s face he growled, “that clear things up for you, asshole?”

The other man stood frozen, eyes trained sharply on the simple band of metal that felt at home on his finger. Grantaire would probably have to walk that declaration back a few steps from fiance to first date in the morning, but for now he needed to make it clear to Enjolras that he’d never stopped meaning everything to him.

“Please tell me I can touch you now.” Enjolras said, hoarsely, his pupils dilating. Frustration dissipating in the wake of blooming hope.

Swallowing thickly, Grantaire considered the request – aware that he may possibly be undoing a decade of progress but a desperate part of him praying that over the years they’d finally come to a place where this might finally work.

A place where they knew what they risked loosing.

Sensing his hesitation, Enjolras pressed closer. Barely an inch of space between them as Enjolras held himself tightly just a breath from Grantaire.

“Please, Grantaire.” The blonde murmured, blue eyes boring into him fiercely.

Lower abdomen clenching in repressed need, his mouth went dry as his breathing shallowed. Every instinct told him to surge forward and slam their lips together. To say to hell with the past, that he could have this. Damn the consequences.

“How do I trust you?” His voice cracked over the words, desire warring with the fear and anger that had sustained him for so long. “How can I believe it would be different this time? For fucks sake, Enj… You’re the _President_ , now. In what world do we not fuck this up again?”

Enjolras shrugged helplessly, gaze never straying from his.

“I can’t promise you we will never fight. That I’ll never fuck up. But Grantaire,” The blonde’s fingers moved to hover slightly over the cool metal on his hand.

“If you can promise me you still love me as much as you did the day I gave you that ring, I promise I will spend the rest of our lives trying to be worthy of it. I know I’m asking a lot, but we can figure it out. Ten years thinking I’d lost you for good is more than enough for a lifetime, R.”

The words were a far sight better a proposal than Enjolras’ first had been. Grantaire should probably argue it was much too soon. They still had a lot to talk about and a new power dynamic to muddle their way through, but Enjolras was looking at him with the same conviction and resolve he usually only devoted to his causes.

For the first time in his life, he thinks he might actually believe Enjolras when he tells him things will be different.

After ten years of running, Grantare stood still, taking the moment in. Worries and old wounds still hung over them, but for once he felt sure. Maybe this would be the biggest mistake of his life, but he felt an unusual flicker of faith that this time things could last.

“I promise to love you with my last breath.” He spoke quietly in the scant space between them, mindful of the hopefulness spreading quickly across Enjolras’ expression.

“Touch me.” He spoke with a confidence he shouldn’t have. Putting aside, for the moment, a decade of pain, he felt himself tumbling over the precipice into the unknown without anything tethering him but that fleeting flicker of faith that only grew in this man’s light.

Enjolras was blinding with joy at the words, dipping down to take Grantaire into a searing kiss. Years of missed moments and heartache etched into every desperate press of lips.

All too soon they had to part, lungs desperate for air. Grantaire chased those perfect lips on reflex, but Enjolras pulled back just enough to gaze down at him. His expression was open, every thought and emotion on display just for him, and him alone.

Pale fingers tucked his dark curls behind his ear before trailing slowly down his neck. A soft kiss was pressed to his forehead, lips dragging tantalizingly slow to press gently from his brow to his chin, before finally meeting his own lips in a soft, languid kiss. It felt like coming home.

The mood was soon ruined as a sharp trill broke the air, shocking them both apart as their gaze darted in confusion towards the noise. The offending tone was coming from the deposited red jacket, which Enjolras quickly searched, coming away with a sleek black phone blaring almost angrily.

The blonde shot him a regretful look. “It’s one of my aides. No doubt wondering why I’m not at my set appearances.” He shifted nervously, “I can ignore them if you need me to.”

Grantaire briefly entertained the idea of turning the phone off and dragging the other man to his bed. He was sure Enjolras would let him, though he could only imagine the scandal that would break come morning.

He reached up, clasping the other man’s neck to drag him down into another kiss. Soft, at first, the kiss quickly intensified as they clung ever more desperately to each other. Before cautious hands could wander too far, Grantaire pulled back, chest heaving.

“Thank you.” He spoke shakily around short breaths.

“For what?” Enjolras choked out, hands frozen where they gripped the swell of his hips.

“For offering.” He nipped at the other man’s swollen mouth, tongue licking its way past easily parting lips. He swallowed the moans, his own need swelling in his gut, but there wasn’t time for this now.

“You should go.” He managed to get out between kisses, his nails dragging down the blonde’s lower back. Pale hips jerked forward, pressing into his own. His brain seemed to stutter as the need to touch and consume spread like wildfire.

Enjolras groaned, head falling back briefly before finding purchase on Grantaire’s shoulder. “If you wanted me to leave,” Enjolras muttered tightly his neck, teeth dragging slightly along the sensitive skin in a way that sent a shiver down his spine, “you probably shouldn’t have kissed me like that.”

Grantaire chuckled, hands tangling themselves in short blonde curls as he arched up into the mouth nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin below his ear.  “Just…” He swallowed thickly, “trying to give you some incentive to come back.”

Enjolras pulled back just a step, brow raised in amusement. Grantaire just smirked, cheekily.

A retort seemed to be fresh on the blonde’s lips when the offending ring tone sounded in the air again. Enjolras gave an exaggerated sigh, before plucking the phone from where he’d dropped it to answer the caller.

Grantaire tried to pull back, to give a semblance of privacy for the call, but Enjolras kept a hand gripped tight at his waist as he gave non committal answers to whomever was on the other line.

“Send Stephan, then. I’ll be there in an hour.” Enjolras spoke crisply after several moments, eyes pinched in annoyance.

He ended the call, returning his focus to Grantaire – expression tinged with apprehension.

“Duty calls?”

The blonde nodded shortly.

“Then go. I’ll be fine.” Grantaire did his best to sound supportive. Enjolras offering was enough, for now. To know that he could keep this man here indefinitely was a tempting offer, but it wasn’t one even he was selfish enough to take. Not anymore.

The blonde’s lips quirked slightly in disappointment as his fingers trailed along the fresh bites darting his darker skin, prompting an amused snort from Grantaire as he watched, for the first time, Enjolras treat his duty as the inconvenience. It wasn’t something he’d ever believed he would see.

Enjolras quickly dressed, smoothing out the faint wrinkles of his shirt. His gaze continued to dart to Grantaire, who had retreated to the couch, his desperate hands tucked under his thighs.

Grantaire, who was still on edge, and starting to freak out a little over the events of the past ten minutes. After the fifth sideways glance, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Just spit it out, Apollo.”

Enjolras’ face contorted, as if he wasn’t sure if he should be annoyed by the nickname or glad to hear it once again.

“I have a press conference tomorrow. Will you stand by my side?” Enjolras voice was carefully neutral, but his eyes betrayed his apprehension at Grantaire’s answer.

The brunette barked out a surprised laugh.

“Isn’t it a bit soon to make me the first lady? This could all fall to pieces come Friday. Besides, I’m hardly cut out for the job.”

Enjolras stood unmoved at his protestations, resolve sharpening his bright blue gaze.

“I’m not stupid, R. I know we have a lot to work out, but starting tomorrow the revolution begins. I need you by my side.”

Grantaire bit his lip anxiously, unsure how to respond. He felt he was treading dangerously simply letting the other man into his life again.

“I need to think about it.” Was all he could manage, mind flooding with memories of their youth and all the times he’d taken his place at this man’s side to support him in a cause Grantaire had never really believed in. Was he ready to do so again?

Enjolras’ face fell slightly in disappointment, but he refused to be cowed. Locating a scrap of paper and a pen, he quickly jotted down an address and a phone number. Pressing a chaste kiss to Grantaire’s waiting lips, he pressed the piece of paper into his hands.

“In case you change your mind.” He murmured, before disappearing out the door with barely a backwards glance.

The space felt suddenly empty and dark, the vibrancy the other man carried with him like a cloak barely more than an afterimage.

His chest clenched painfully, the urge to run after the other man as strong as his fear of what tomorrow could mean for him, for them.

It seemed no amount of years would decay his love for the other man. It would only delay the time it took for him to deal with it. This one night had shown just how much they had both changed, but the enormity of the choice before him seemed incomprehensible now that the haze of Enjolras was fading from his senses.

A bitter voice in the back of his mind criticized how weak he was being. All those years telling himself he would never make someone his whole world again, that he would do what was good for him, torn apart by one evening and few desperate kisses.

Except… he believed Enjolras, when he said things could be different, and was willing to feel out this potential future. Unfortunately, what Enjorlas was offering wasn’t a quiet night in, or meeting for coffee as they relearned each other. It was a statement. That if Grantaire wouldn’t ask him to walk away then he needed Grantaire to truly accept that this would be their lives.

To accept that despite how much he’d changed, Enjolras would always need to fight for a new dawn. This time however, rather than being relegated to the background, he offered a true place at his side. One that Grantaire wasn’t sure he was capable of accepting.

He’d been happy to stand in the background as Enjolras, Courfeyrac and Comberre led the Les Amis. Each a figure of change and power in their own right. Grantaire was just a cynic who’d fallen in love with a believer. What could he offer his legacy besides what was in his heart?

Around and around his mind went, torn between his fear and his hope. Every possible scenario of how badly this could go, if not for him, for Enjolras. This would be a statement not just for them, but for the entire country.

Hours passed as he paced restlessly around his apartment, mind whirling at the possibilities. The safe call would be not to go. To keep their potential relationship quiet amidst the tumultuous nature of such a major power shift.

The idea of walking away, yet again, crossed his mind, but every time his thoughts went down that path the ache in his chest threatened to destroy him. At some point this evening he’d let his carefully built walls be ripped away by his Apollo. He could rebuild them, but the fire of his pain and anger had cooled. There was nothing left to work with but his fear.

Grantaire was tired of being afraid.

The first light of dawn creeped through the windows, bouncing off the band of metal still laying innocently on his finger.

They’d never really gotten around to planning a wedding.

It was an odd thought to have at a time like this, but soon it was all he could think about. How much he’d wanted that day where he could stand in front of everyone with the man he loved and show everyone who’d ever made him feel unworthy, useless or undeserving that Enjolras had chosen him. That above all others, he loved him.

Before he knew what he was doing, Grantaire was grabbing his keys off the table, phone in hand as he dialed a familiar number.

The call had nearly rung out before a low, groggy voice answered, “Hello?”

“I need you to get me in the press conference.” He spoke hurriedly, lock clicking into place.

“R?” The voice seemed suddenly alert, “What – why are you calling?”

He felt a twinge of guilt. Enjolras hadn’t been the only one he’d walked away from.

“Hey Courf…” he sighed, pausing at the foot of the stairs he’d just barreled down to glance around. The roads were still a bit of a mess from the night before. Walking would have to do.

“Look…. I know I don’t really have a right to ask, but I need your help getting into the press conference. Enjolras left me his number, but right now I’m still one foot out the door on this stupid plan and I can’t make this decision for me with him talking in my ear.”

He walked quickly, cold morning air sending shivers down his back. He really should have grabbed a jacket.

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line so long Grantaire feared he’d been hung up on.

“Where are you?”

Grantaire spared a look at his surroundings, orienting himself.

“I’m a couple blocks from the train. Figure I’ll be at the address he gave me in about an hour or two.”

He heard a muffled smattering of voices, Courfeyrac interjecting every so often with vague one-word responses.

His anxiety built as he awaited his answer.

The station was in front him now. He could always try to take his chances alone, but that sounded like a surefire way to get arrested.

“I’ll meet you at the café with the blue shutters near the perimeter. I’ll text you the exact address.”

Grantaire barely got out a thank you before the call was disconnected.

He tried not to feel offended given he probably deserved it.

The trip went by quickly, his mind sufficiently distracted with a constant back and forth on his decision and the unknown of how he would be received by his old friend.

All too soon he was standing outside the small café, almost suffocated by the growing crowd surrounding the perimeter, eager for a look.

Gaze flitting nervously, he finally spotted the lean, well dressed figure of Courfeyrac emerging from the crowd with a tightness to his normally cheery expression.

He stopped short in front of Grantaire, giving him a brief once over.

“You look like shit.”

Grantaire frowned, turning to face the glass window and taking in his appearance for the first time in hours. Sure enough he looked rumpled, eyes red and hair a mess from where he’d kept running his fingers through it in frustration. His once crisp black button down was wrinkled and only half tucked into his slacks. Fortunately, he could only barely make out the faint scrape of teeth along his neck.

“It’s been an evening.” He shrugged, doing his best to smooth down his hair.

Courfeyrac snorted. “So I’ve heard. Come on, we’re going to be late.”

He pressed a hand to his lower back, directing him through the crowd and past the guards to a side entrance. Wordlessly, Courfeyrac swiped a card and walked them through the winding halls to a large open room where, in the distance he could make out Enjolras speaking animatedly to an amused Combeferre and a handful of frantic looking assistants.

On reflex he made to cross the room, held back only by the tense hand on his lower spine. He shot a look over his shoulder to take in the wary expression on his old friend’s face.

“What is it?”

Courfeyrac frowned, dark eyes sweeping between Grantaire and Enjolras, who was still unaware of his presence.

His lips parted multiple times, halting just short of speech as he seemed to rethink whatever words were threatening to bubble over. He wasn’t used to Courfeyrac having a filter, remembering how the words used to spill easily from him without care.

“You’re lucky he loves you.” He muttered finally, shaking his head in frustration.

“And you?” Grantaire questioned nervously, eyes flicking up tenuously beneath lowered lashes.

The other man sighed heavily, running olive skinned hands through artfully messy curls.

“You’re an ass, Grantaire, and I’m pissed off.”

“But?” He asked tentatively, wincing slightly.

“ _But_ … “ Courfeyrac’s expression softened, “It’s really good to see you.”

Before he could respond, he was wrapped in the taller man’s embrace. It was the first time in six years they’d touched like this.

Grantaire felt a lump in his throat, his tired eyes blinking rapidly at the sudden wetness.

“I missed you too, Courf.” He confessed as they drew apart.

The other man smiled sadly, “We can talk about this later. For now,” he motioned across the room, “I think you’ve got a statement to make?”

His brow arched mischievously, enjoying himself despite the tense mood between them.

Grantaire shook his head, snorting. Turning back to face the far corner, he hesitated.

This was the moment where he could either walk away and continue as he had the past ten years or put the fragments of faith he had left to the test for this man he would never be able to truly run from.

He let his heart move him, absently straightening himself as he strode further and further into the room. His focus was trained on the blonde before him, but he could sense the room quiet and bodies turn towards this unkempt stranger with trepidation.

Sensing the shift in mood, Enjolras turned, confusion quickly morphing into hopeful surprise as he took in Grantaire where he’d halted a few paces away.

Overcome with various emotions, it took several attempts to clear his throat.

“Are you sure you want to start your term with a scandal?” He croaked out, nerves causing his body to shake just a bit.

Enjolras grinned so bright as to dim the sun, abandoning his aids as he quickly crossed the room.

“What’s the point of power if I can’t use it to make a point?”

In front of the entire room of gawking men and women, Enjolras grabbed Grantaire by the front of his wrinkled shirt, pulling him into a kiss that sent a tremor through his entire, already shaking, body. He could barely keep up with the blonde’s enthusiasm, his hands bunching into the fabric of his suit jacket.

All too soon, they broke apart with heaving breaths.

“And what point is that?” He managed, voice raspy.

Enjolras drew his eyes over his face like it was something to be revered.

“That I love you, Grantaire. Always have.” He smirked “Even if teenage me was a bit of a dumbass about realizing it.”

Grantaire shook his head, chuckling.

His hand was halfway to pulling the blonde into another kiss, when an amused voice sounded beside them.

“As glad as I am to see you two speaking again, we do have a press conference to hold.”

Enjolras didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed, shooting his best friend an annoyed look.

“Don’t give me that look, Enj.” Combeferre rolled his eyes. “Just follow me.”

He turned to lead them to where there was a partition blocking them from view of the crowd he could now hear milling about.

“Just a couple more minutes, Enj. Are you sure about this?” His gaze darted pointedly to Grantaire, who was shifting nervously.

Enjolras wrapped a hand around his waist, tucking him neatly to his side.

“Absolutely.”

He was a firm picture of resolve, staring down his dubious friend until Combeferre simply shrugged and walk away.

“I’ll manage the press, I suppose.” He sighed irritably.

“Appreciated.” Enjolras grinned over his shoulder as the tall, dark skinned man retreated from view.

Grantaire pressed closer into his side, taking comfort in his touch to calm his shaking limbs. There were a million reasons not to do this, but his heart had chosen this path and for once he would see it through to the end. Whatever that end may be.

They stood like that, simply enjoying the other’s company as they took in the swelling crowd through the crack in the partition. He’d been to many of Enjolras’ speeches when they were younger, yet none had had an audience so frenzied or large.

“A new day is dawning. Can’t you feel it?” The excitement was palpable in the air, Enjolras practically giddy with it.

Grantaire, for once keeping his cynicism at bay, returned the blonde’s beaming grin with one of his own. He flicked his gaze to the side to take in the crowd below them from where he was still safely hidden by the partition.

“No turning back after this, Enjolras.”

A pale, delicate hand slipped into his own rough grip, twining their fingers together.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Enjolras squeezed his hand tightly in reassurance.

Over the blonde’s shoulder he saw an aide motion for them to take the stage.

“Show time.” He murmured, and side by side, they rounded the corner to face the crowd. The road ahead may be rocky and unpredictable, but standing side by his Apollo’s side as an equal, Grantaire felt hope blooming in his heart as he let himself believe in the possibilities of every tomorrow ahead of them.

Hands grasped tight as they did the first time they met, they could face anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to comment below! I'd love to read your thoughts :)


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